A short poem from somewhere deep inside me. I dedicate this story to every "girl" out there that struggles to be the "she" whom she knows herself to be.
 

Flower Girls

So what will be our heroes' next move? And is the Bogron's presence all it seems to be?

Angelo, continuing his adventures into becoming a girl, faces frightening prospects and returns to his loving foster mother as high school years continue. The story ends in a surprise.

Philip placed a couple of fingers to her lips and whispered, "Shh." Putting one bent finger under her chin, he raised her head and looked at her straight in the eyes. Their lips moved toward each other and, as they touched, Lizzie Jane became limp as the sweetness of the kiss canceled out everything around them and, once again, she was flooded with warmness and complete surrender. At that moment, she would have given into anything Philip wanted.

As I woke up on the floor after being dumped back into my room. I was covered in blood, sweat, tears and dust. The outfit was ruined as was my hair and there were bruies starting to appear on my arms and my face. I was not sure how much of my now sore back was torn open from the abuse I had recieved. I was kind of secure in the knowledge I was in my room where I thought I might be safe.

Shopping for Vaginas

So…I always knew something was…off, but it took me a while to figure it out. You see it was a plumbing issue. I had been born with a spigot. I never wanted a spigot, but who asked?

"No, I think that's it and quite enough too." I saw her smile at that. "It's almost as if someone made that Chinese curse on me. You know the one about living in interesting times?"

Angelo finds friendship and acceptance at high school, in spite of his girlish nature. His joy is short-lived as he finds Child Welfare Services has come to remove him from his foster mother's home, a prospect that horrifies him. He works out his own solution to this frightening event and finds a whole new world.

"I don't know how parents survive!" she exclaimed. "You've been with me for what — five or six weeks now, and I feel like I'm either going to have gray hair or a heart attack or both! And the thing is, you're just skipping along, tra la la, and — oh! I'm a girl! oh! I have a boyfriend! oh! I climbed the school building! oh! I have breasts!"

The plot thickens...or is that the gravy???

I drove over to the cottage, now less than worried about the press. It was a mess, it had been searched, thankfully, they weren't vandals, so whilst they ripped out the back of wardobes and things, they didn't rip up the clothing. I took several more items down to the car. I didn't think I'd be coming back for a while.

I tidied up Stella and Simon's clothes, but left everything else. The young copper on the door was bored stiff, but he had his job to do, so after making him a cuppa and some sandwiches, I left.

“Neither do I sweetheart, but we must eat. If you don’t, you’ll lose even more of your bust and the pills won’t do their magic, will they?”

“I suppose not.” I allowed her to cajole me out of bed. My skirt was all creased and the belt had rubbed red marks around my small waist. She got me to strip off and put on my jammies and a dressing gown, and to wash my face and hands. When I’d done so, I padded down the stairs in my slippers, to the kitchen. My mother was standing with her back to me doing something at one of the work tops. I walked up behind her and wrapped my arms around her and said, “I love you and I’m sorry I made you cry.”

She turned around and hugged me, “You didn’t, I’m just sad all the time at the moment.”